A storm was brewing, not metaphorically either, a real one. The clouds came rolling in from the east and you could hear the thunder coming round like trucks on parade. When it finally started to pour down on our heads, I kept wondering why the hell I’d bothered to come out to this one-horse bumblefuck of a town.
It all started when my buddy Brendan’s sister went missing a few days back and he didn’t have any clue on how to find her. That’s when I stepped in, I knew guys he didn’t and more importantly, I knew how to talk to those guys. The trail led us to this craphole on the trail of some jerkass who goes by the name of Tater who ran the local numbers racket out of some crapped out warehouses on the edge of town.
Now we didn’t get much information out of the locals before someone started to spook them into being quiet, so we had to try and find him the old fashioned way. First place we looked was like a bad turd on a worse stretch of road, dried out and smelling like something died, got ate and shat back out on a pile of more crap. Worst part about it was the fact that the place was absolutely fucking empty, not even a rat up in there.
We saw the storm clouds rolling in as we walked out of the warehouse and we knew that we had to pick up the pace. Unfortunately, the second place we checked out was pretty much the same as the first, if not worse since it was pretty much tetanus’ dream house. Jagged metal bits of car parts poked out from every corner and it was a wonder that neither of us got ourselves hurt rustling through the wreckage.
As we walked over to the third place, I got a bad feeling in the back of my neck. Where the other two warehouses looked pretty shitty, this one looked like it was about to fall in on itself. Big chunks of the ceiling were smashed down into the concrete floor, like God himself decided to take a crap on it and willed his crap to take the form of giant chunks of concrete with rebar poking out of it. Sure enough, not even ten minutes into looking for Tater, a chunk of the ceiling the size of a hubcap dropped down from the ceiling. Brendan tried to warn me, but it was too late and the damn thing crashed down onto my shoulder like a ball-peen hammer. It hurt like two bitches on a bitch-boat and I could’ve sworn I felt the bone split right out of its socket. Me and Brendan started to get a bit freaked out and it didn’t help when we heard the dog.
Right outside the building there was a nasty looking Doberman barking up the walls and sure enough, two toughs with baseball bats came running. They didn’t look like they were in the mood to talk and neither of us were in any shape to take them on. We looked around for a way out and so we made our way towards the back of the building where there was a big-ass chunk of the wall missing. We managed to sneak out of the building before the toughs caught us, but the storm was coming down in buckets and I was in no condition to make it back to town by foot.
That’s when we heard it, the roaring chug-a-lug of an old fashioned freight train. The tracks weren’t very far from us and it was looking like a much better option to hop the train than to try and make our way back to town past the dog and the two jackasses. Brendan caught up to the car first and took a running jump at it, grabbing onto it like Spider-Man himself. I wasn’t in any shape to be doing this, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. I jumped myself and by some divine miracle, I managed to catch it and Brendan went and pulled me the rest of the way up. I didn’t know where the train was going and I didn’t give a fuck, anyplace was better than this shithole.
It all started when my buddy Brendan’s sister went missing a few days back and he didn’t have any clue on how to find her. That’s when I stepped in, I knew guys he didn’t and more importantly, I knew how to talk to those guys. The trail led us to this craphole on the trail of some jerkass who goes by the name of Tater who ran the local numbers racket out of some crapped out warehouses on the edge of town.
Now we didn’t get much information out of the locals before someone started to spook them into being quiet, so we had to try and find him the old fashioned way. First place we looked was like a bad turd on a worse stretch of road, dried out and smelling like something died, got ate and shat back out on a pile of more crap. Worst part about it was the fact that the place was absolutely fucking empty, not even a rat up in there.
We saw the storm clouds rolling in as we walked out of the warehouse and we knew that we had to pick up the pace. Unfortunately, the second place we checked out was pretty much the same as the first, if not worse since it was pretty much tetanus’ dream house. Jagged metal bits of car parts poked out from every corner and it was a wonder that neither of us got ourselves hurt rustling through the wreckage.
As we walked over to the third place, I got a bad feeling in the back of my neck. Where the other two warehouses looked pretty shitty, this one looked like it was about to fall in on itself. Big chunks of the ceiling were smashed down into the concrete floor, like God himself decided to take a crap on it and willed his crap to take the form of giant chunks of concrete with rebar poking out of it. Sure enough, not even ten minutes into looking for Tater, a chunk of the ceiling the size of a hubcap dropped down from the ceiling. Brendan tried to warn me, but it was too late and the damn thing crashed down onto my shoulder like a ball-peen hammer. It hurt like two bitches on a bitch-boat and I could’ve sworn I felt the bone split right out of its socket. Me and Brendan started to get a bit freaked out and it didn’t help when we heard the dog.
Right outside the building there was a nasty looking Doberman barking up the walls and sure enough, two toughs with baseball bats came running. They didn’t look like they were in the mood to talk and neither of us were in any shape to take them on. We looked around for a way out and so we made our way towards the back of the building where there was a big-ass chunk of the wall missing. We managed to sneak out of the building before the toughs caught us, but the storm was coming down in buckets and I was in no condition to make it back to town by foot.
That’s when we heard it, the roaring chug-a-lug of an old fashioned freight train. The tracks weren’t very far from us and it was looking like a much better option to hop the train than to try and make our way back to town past the dog and the two jackasses. Brendan caught up to the car first and took a running jump at it, grabbing onto it like Spider-Man himself. I wasn’t in any shape to be doing this, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. I jumped myself and by some divine miracle, I managed to catch it and Brendan went and pulled me the rest of the way up. I didn’t know where the train was going and I didn’t give a fuck, anyplace was better than this shithole.